


Morally Ambiguous

by possiblythreefourthspeahen



Category: The Posterchildren - Kitty Burroughs
Genre: Alternate Reality, Evil! June, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblythreefourthspeahen/pseuds/possiblythreefourthspeahen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>June is not a supervillain. She is a criminal with posterpowers. It's an important distinction.</p><p>Ernest is a hero having a crisis of faith about working for the BPHA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morally Ambiguous

**Author's Note:**

> AR: June never went to Foundation. In this, June is 19, Ernest is 18. 
> 
> I don't know much about the BPHA, but they're willing to be horrid to Gloria in the name of protecting others. I'm betting they aren't too nice. I imagine them here to be a bit like SHIELD.

June loved her roommate and best friend dearly. She did. But that woman was evil. That was alright, because June was kind of evil, too, but June was the kind of evil that siphoned money from mafia bank accounts or framed politicians for drug possession just because she could. Mercury McCaffrey was a different sort of evil. Mercury was the kind of evil that had big ideas about what the world could be and bigger plans on how to get it there, the kind of evil that had a kernel of kindness and optimism at the center. The kind of evil that believed the end justified the means – but a very specific subset of that evil that would feel a bit guilty for hurting people to get there. She’d still hurt you, of course, she’d just apologize for it – sincerely, even – before continuing with her plans.  


Mercury McCaffrey was the kind of evil that brought home strays and foisted them upon June, which was why they had two cats and a Burmese python in their apartment, despite the building’s strict no pets clause.  


Mercury McCaffrey was the kind of evil that had apparently kidnapped Ernest “Champ” Wright, because she could see him hovering in the doorway of their shared apartment, wet, muddy, and thoroughly miserable.  


When June got her hands on her, Mercury McCaffrey was going to be a _dead_ woman, beloved evil best friend or not.

\---

“Don’t stand in the door; you’ll let the cats out. In, come in!” Mercury shooed him inside and then turned and beamed at June. June scowled back. “I found him wandering in Central Park and he doesn’t have a place to stay, so I told him he could crash on our couch,” she said, as if that excused bringing a very newly certified BPHA superhero into their previously undetected living space and center of criminal operations. When June’s expression shifted from furious to downright murderous, Mercury added, “It’s only until tomorrow, June, really. There’s nothing wrong with being hospitable. Be nice to Ernest, he’s having a very rough time right now.”  


June automatically smiled, a trained response to Merc’s command to be nice, but it wasn’t a nice kind of smile. Ernest flinched when he saw it.  


“Ernest, this is June, I told you about her on the way here – June, this is obviously Ernest. That great gray beast standing beside her is Akhmatova and the stripy bastard that’s probably in the cupboard is Tolstoy, because June has a thing for Russian writers. Betsy’s in the tank over there. That’s introductions all around, so let’s get you into something that’s not cold and wet, shall we?” Mercury ushered him into the bathroom and told him to get cleaned up while she looked for clothes. June waited until the shower started running to say anything to her dear, soon to be departed friend.  


“ _What the hell do you think you’re doing?_ You think the BPHA hasn’t got him wired to hell and back? They’ll track us down and you’ll have led them right to us!” she hissed.  


Merc’s reply was just as quietly spoken. “One, Molly’s got GPS jammers on the whole of Manhattan, we’re fine. Two, even if they did find us here, we’re just being friendly, helpful college students, aren’t we? Everything’s packed up; we’ll get away with it. Three, he’s having a BPHA related existential crisis. He’s not trying to attract their attention right now. Four, whichever way he decides to go with this, he’s an orange band alpha. Ends. Means. Whether he ends up as a new associate or Trojan horse, I don’t care; it’ll be useful for us.” Merc grinned, that quick, wide smile that made her silver eyes shine and her nose crinkle. “It’ll be fine, unclench a little. He’ll only be here for one night.”  


“Whatever comes of this, I blame you. I hope you know that. I. Blame. You.”  


“You do that, June,” Merc said, giving her an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “Do you think he’ll fit into my sweats? Jesus, I never thought I’d bring home a guy taller than I am, much less find clothes for one.” Given that Mercury topped out at a towering six foot seven, Ernest’s height was probably a bit of a novelty for her – Merc rarely met people taller than her.  


“Might be a little short, but he’s only what, two, three inches taller than you? He’ll survive, I’m sure.” June scowled again, fleeting but fierce. “I’ll be surrounded by giants. I feel like a hobbit.”  


“You’ll survive, I’m sure,” Merc said. “I have clothes to find. Why don’t you pull out the takeout menus? He could probably use a hot meal and I’m starved. I missed lunch.”  


June sighed and rolled her eyes, but headed for the menu drawer in the kitchen, Akhmatova following at her heels.  
\---  


She managed to maintain her frosty silence towards Ernest throughout dinner and well into the night, no matter tempted she was to counter almost everything he said with a sarcastic barb. She barely even looked at him, which amused Mercury to no end. It wasn’t until Thursday evening, when he was sitting primly on the couch and haltingly confessing everything he thought was wrong with the BPHA, that she spoke directly to him.  


She absently thought that it was a good thing he’d fallen into their hands and not another, less savory villain’s clutches, because Ernest was giving them _everything_. He’d been thoroughly debriefed just that morning; all of that information was fresh in his mind, painful to think about and cathartic to speak about. Merc barely had to prompt him on anything; it all came tumbling out in a nervous rush. He went on for over an hour.  


“And then there’s what they did to my mother – she’s never going to be the same, even if she ever gets out, I just know it, I – I – _damn_ it, I don’t know what to do. She calls, you know, every year, but I didn’t know –” he choked on that, shoulders heaving on what sounded like a sob.  


June snorted. “The needs of the many don’t seem as important when you’re one of the neglected few, I suppose.” Mercury hissed at her, but Ernest’s head snapped up from where it had been held in his hands. For the first time since he’d arrived that afternoon, he looked angry. He was also making a disturbingly familiar expression which took June a minute to place.  


“If it were just my needs, I’d be happy to let this slide. The majority needs protecting. But this, what they’re doing? This isn’t about me and it isn’t neglect. This is worse than neglect.” He met her stare evenly and she recognized the expression at last: the optimistic determination of a person who’d discovered a systematic problem and thought they change it. There were more than a few villains whose careers had started with that look. She wondered if this was his corruptible, turncoat moment or the reaffirmation of heroism moment. June met his determined stare coolly, raising one questioning brow. He didn’t answer the unspoken question – or was it a challenge? – and she let the silence build for several long moments.  


“And what are you going to do about it?” she finally said.  


He backed down. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” His head dropped and his shoulders slumped. Mercury glared at her while awkwardly patting his arm. She’d pushed him too soon. June’s lip curled with derision. She didn’t have time for people who didn’t have the guts to act on their convictions.  


“I don’t know… yet.”  


Then again, maybe he was still in the formative stage.  


Merc was saying something to him about figuring it out or making it up as he went and people there to help him, but June was done with this. She had all the information he had on the BPHA. Merc could deal with the after care. June swept up Akhmatova and went to her room, intent on recording the pertinent information before going to bed.  


Not all of it was useful to her, directly, or to Merc, as far as she knew. But there were a lot of people who would pay very dearly for the kind of information Ernest had revealed and June was interested in breaking into the real estate business. She’d need the cash. 

  
\---  


Merc woke her up at ungodly-early-thirty (probably seven, but she wasn’t in the habit of waking up until ten if she could get away with it) by dropping Tolstoy on her legs. “June, he _cooks_. Are you sure we can’t keep him?” For one sleep-fogged moment, June thought she meant Tolstoy. Then she remembered their newest stray and groaned.  


“No! One night, you promised!” She picked up a pillow and threw it at Mercury, who grabbed it out of the air.  


“He’s making omelets and fried ham. If you don’t get up now, I’m eating your share.” June growled and sent a tiger towards her roommate, but it fizzled almost immediately and Merc ’ported back out of her room, leaving a thick cloud of noxious fumes in her wake. June growled again as she reached over and opened the window and flipped on the little ventilating unit that Molly had whipped up last summer. When the air had cleared substantially and June felt more awake, she dragged herself out of bed.  


She contemplated getting dressed, but fuck him. She didn’t put herself together for the comfort of strangers. He could handle her in her pajamas and messy braid or he could get the fuck out of her apartment.  


Tolstoy bolted back into the kitchen as soon as she opened her door – they could barely keep that cat out of the kitchen, to be honest – and June followed his path at a much more sedate pace. Even from here, she could smell the ham. She had the vague thought that this all might be a trick and that he might poison them, put arsenic in the omelets or something, but when she reached the kitchen she saw he’d set the table for three people. He wouldn’t poison food he was going to eat himself… probably. His posterpower made him immune to blunt force trauma, but she didn’t know how susceptible he was to toxins. June checked the cats’ food dish, but Mercury told her they were already fed, so she went ahead and sat at the kitchen table, scowling at her plate. Ernest noticed her arrival and poured coffee for her. Merc pushed the sugar bowl her way. She accepted both offerings and thought marginally more kindly about the people giving them.  


“So, you know how Ernest is leaving today…” Merc started. That was a good start. June nodded and thought even nicer things about the people in her kitchen. “He’s planning on meeting up with his friends at Madison Square Garden, you know, for the circus. Apparently his friend is a real fan of circuses,” she continued. June had a bad feeling about this. She suspected that friend was Sideshow. She knew that Merc had class that day and she knew that Madison Square Garden and CCNY were in opposite directions from their flat. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Ernest kept cooking, apparently unaware of the danger Merc was getting him in. She cut her gaze to him and almost choked on her coffee when she noticed what he was wearing. He had on Mercury’s eye-scalding electric blue tank top, which looked wonderful on Merc’s dark skin but made his coloring pasty. It also clung to his torso in a way that wasn’t decent. She felt slightly nicer to him, which was shallow but undeniable, but she was still very leery of Mercury’s plan. “The circus starts at ten thirty, he needs to be there before that – nine thirty-ish, I guess? I have organic chemistry starting at nine, it’s a lab so I can’t miss it, June, not even a few minutes to teleport him there,” Mercury said. She was doing her best hang-dog look, hands together as if in prayer, lip pushed out in a pout, silver eyes wide and brows furrowed. That was the look that earned Betsy her place in the apartment. June steeled herself against the inevitable request that would follow. “Can you take him there, June? I’m worried he’ll get lost on his own. He has no sense of direction and he’s new to the city.” June scowled ferociously. “It’s like a ten minute subway ride, June, and you don’t have any classes today.” Her scowl didn’t budge. Any nice thoughts she’d been thinking about either of them shriveled up and died, never to return. Ernest took her plate, loaded it with a very cheesy omelet with mushrooms and chives and fried ham on the side, and handed it back to her. She could be convinced to resurrect the nice thoughts, maybe. Mercury was still watching her closely; Ernest joined her vigil. June let them stew in it for a while, sipping her coffee and staring them down.  


“Fine,” she said tersely. It seemed like even Akhmatova and Tolstoy sighed in relief. She ignored them for the rest of the meal and then stalked off to take a shower and get dressed.  


\---  


She was frankly embarrassed for him, really. She’d dressed to kill, as always, in a slate gray pencil skirt and a tailored scarlet blouse, but he was stuck in Merc’s sweatpants (which were too short) and tank top and his shoes and socks, still wet from the day before. The rest of his clothes and things were stashed in a plastic bag. People were giving him strange looks on the subway, but that might have been because the contents of the plastic bag reeked. She finally broke down and asked him what happened; he said he’d fallen into Turtle Pond, which was where Mercury found him. She’d snorted and thought, once again, of the perks of having a washer and dryer installed in the apartment.  


It was rather more peaceful riding on the subway with a large man accompanying her. She didn’t have to deal at all with the usual transit harassment, which was nice. Then she thought that it was only Ernest’s presence that made catcallers and invasive, chatty men ignore her and started fuming. Thankfully, the ride was pretty short and she didn’t really get a chance to work herself into a proper temper. She did, however, snap rather sharply at Ernest when he started to walk the wrong way through the subway station. He blinked and looked a bit hurt. She almost felt guilty.  


Walking on the sidewalk was also easier with Ernest there; crowds parted before him. It was particularly useful once they were on Pennsylvania Plaza. She stopped before the arena and gave her best impression of Vanna White with an added, “Tada” just to make extra sure he understood how sarcastic she was feeling.  


“Thanks, June, I really apprecia – oof.” A small man took a flying leap and plastered himself to the back of Ernest’s head. From the easy way Ernest hooked his elbows around the man’s legs, June guessed the man was a good friend. From the dazzling blue sparkles radiating from the two, she guessed that was Sideshow. He had his hands on Ernest’s shoulders and used that leverage to lean over Ernest’s head, talking a mile a minute, punctuated by dramatic wailing, sighing, and whining.  


“Ernest! One note? One note? Two lines! It wasn’t even a note for me! How could you leave a note for Dylan and not for me? Me! Just, bam, back from Headquarters, don’t want to talk, take a walk and then gone. Gone, Ernest! You were gone for hours! Dylan didn’t tell me about the note until after I bugged Mal about it! I didn’t know what happened for hours! I didn’t know if you were safe! I didn’t know where you were! I didn’t know if you found something to eat or someplace to sleep or if you’d been abducted –” well, he wasn’t far off there, June supposed. She didn’t think he’d stopped to breath yet, so the piteous howl and full-body slump was both impressive and surprising. Ernest shifted carefully to make sure he was still supporting his friend’s legs and started petting his dark curls.  


“I’m fine, Maks. A couple of nice ladies let me stay with them for the night.”  


“ _Nice?_ ” June snapped.  


“Lad _ies?_ ” Maks gasped.  


“It wasn’t like that! I slept on their couch!” Ernest said, blushing. Thanks to the scooped neck of the tank top, June could see that blush went quite a way down. He took a deep breath as if to calm himself and started talking as if he wasn’t as red as June’s blouse. “Maks, this is June, I stayed with her and Mercury last night at their apartment. They made sure I ate and lent me clothes.”  


“ _Mercury_ made sure you ate and lent you clothes,” June interjected. “Don’t make me sound nice.”  


“They have a very nice apartment and were very hospitable, so you can calm down. Okay? I’m fine,” Ernest said. “I was in Central Park most of yesterday, I got lost, and Mercury offered to let me stay with them because they live near the park.” He was still blushing. Maks had straightened up and lifted himself up to sit on Ernest’s shoulders.  


“You live near Central Park? Isn’t that super expensive?”  


“Maks! That’s rude!”  


“Yes, we live near the park. It’s expensive, but I have a part time job as a bank robber, so I’m hardly strapped for cash,” she said.  


“You’re only a part time robber?” Maks asked.  


“I go to school full time. I don’t have the time or energy to commit full time to a life of crime.” True, but said sarcastically. They both took it to be drama on her part.  


“Well, June the part time robber, thank you very much for taking care of Ernest,” Maks said. He held out a hand, clearly expecting her to shake it.  


“I didn’t.” She looked pointedly at his hand, cocked a brow, and looked back to Ernest. “Don’t worry about the clothes, Merc can get new ones. I’ll be glad to see those sweatpants go, anyway.”  


She could see other people rushing towards Ernest – well, one person jogging up and two strolling casually. The rest of his capstone team, like as not. “There are your friends, that’s you delivered, I’m off. Bye, Ernest. Hope you figure it all out. Have a nice life.” She hurried away before she had to be introduced to any more of his friends.  


June had a design project to work on, due next Monday, research to do on shell corporations, and information to sell. She was really too busy to think about a new-minted hero and his recent crisis. She _was_ , damnit. Besides, she had a sudden urge to rob a bank. She should see what Molly had planned for the weekend.


End file.
